


¿Otra Vez?

by romeokijai



Series: They speak in a language all their own [1]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Nora and Connor doing other things with their mouths, Nora and Connor speaking in Spanish, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn, Revolution: The Second Coming, Smut, for anyone who is wondering, the ship name is Norett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4803869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romeokijai/pseuds/romeokijai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she first asked him if he spoke Spanish, she had no idea that this would be the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	¿Otra Vez?

**Author's Note:**

> Revolution: The Second Coming Prompt #101: They speak in a language all their own.
> 
> Pairing: Nora Clayton/Connor Bennett
> 
> Yes, yes, I know this completely ignores canon, but isn’t that kind of the point? :D "But...but...how did Nora survive the Tower and all that?!" You're saying. Honestly? Feel free to make up whatever headcanon suits your fancy for this particular fic. All I know is, for the purposes of this fic, she survived, she stayed with our band of heroes through season 2, AND she got to meet Connor. And oh, what fun they had! 
> 
> Disclaimer: To any Spanish speakers out there, I only took about two semesters of elementary Spanish during college (which was many, many moons ago) so I sincerely apologize if any of the Spanish in here doesn’t make sense. I did have a Spanish-speaking friend look over this, but if you see any glaring errors, please don’t hesitate to let me know.
> 
> Also, be on the look out for my Charloe-centric counterpart for this prompt.

 

* * *

 

It all started with a simple question:

 

“¿Hablas Español?”

 

She’s not quite sure why the first words she ever said to him were in Spanish (especially when she already knew the answer).

 

Maybe she just missed the language. (It’s a shame, really, how little she was using it up until his arrival.)

 

Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe she figured it would make him feel more at home, soften him a bit, after his father had dragged him, kicking and screaming, from the only home he’d ever known.

 

Whatever the case, she’s glad she did it, because she still remembers the way his chestnut brown eyes, which until then had been hard and broody, had lit up like a pre-blackout bulb.

 

(Miles. His eyes remind her so much of Miles, despite the fact that Monroe is his alleged father. Sometimes, she genuinely wonders….)

 

“Sí,” he’d answered, his tone warm and chocolaty, the arrogant, uncooperative glower he usually wore set aside for the moment.

 

Then he’d launched into a series of compliment-infused questions: her name, her ethnicity and background and upbringing, and why in the hell his idiot father and the crotchety old bastard his father hung out with hadn’t brought _her_ along when they’d gallivanted down to Mexico to find him.

 

He would have happily gone home with her, he’d said, and then concluded that maybe, just maybe, Texas wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

She’d chuckled at his blatant flirting, made some quip in Spanish about Miles and Monroe’s IQ levels (while they stood less than ten feet away, suspiciously scowling at her), and assured the kid with a wink that indeed, Texas no esta tan mal.

 

And thus began her friendship with Connor Bennett.

 

Friendship, Nora mentally snorts.

 

Well, that’s certainly _one_ way to describe this thing that has developed between her and Monroe’s son.

 

This thing – yes – that, at the moment, involves him having his face buried between her legs, his warm, wet tongue eagerly lapping at the petals of her throbbing pussy.

 

She lets out a blissful, lust-drenched moan in response and urges him on by yanking on his gloriously full head of hair. (He has really nice hair. Thick and curly and soft between her fingers.)

 

Friendship, Nora snorts again, out loud this time.

 

Right. Sure. Whatever.

 

Her thoughts screech to a halt when she realizes Connor has stopped what he’s doing and has lifted his face from her sticky slit.

 

His stubbly chin glistens with her juices, and he cocks a questioning eyebrow at her. “Something funny?”

 

“It’s nothing.” Her words come out in a harsh, impatient pant. “I’ll tell you later.”

 

She’s determined to drop the subject and tries to maneuver his mouth back over her sex.

 

But he is having none of it.

 

“Oh, no you don’t,” he growls, dodging her hands and the twist of her hips, refusing to put his fingers and lips where she wants – no, _needs_ – him most.

 

“Connor!” She shrieks, petulant and desperate. “Please…just…please….”

 

(Oh God, she’s resorted to begging. Seriously? Begging? She’s Nora fucking Clayton! She doesn’t fucking beg! Damn him for being so fucking good with that wicked, bilingual mouth of his!)

 

“Mmm…amo cuando me ruegas.” He playfully nips at the tender flesh of her inner thighs, leaving little bite marks all along her skin but never moving back up to her pussy.

 

She intends to scoff at him, to remind him that lines like ‘I love it when you beg’ might have worked on the amateur girls back home in Mexico, but they wouldn’t fucking work on her.

 

Unfortunately, the words never even make it to her lips because she’s too consumed by the white, hot tension coiling inside her gut, too overwhelmed by her dizzying need to come.

 

She ends up whimpering out something unintelligible instead, which, of course, just makes Connor chuckle.

 

Nora jerks her hips forward (a futile move, she quickly realizes), and right when she thinks she’s going to lose her goddamned mind or have to finish herself off, Connor attacks.

 

His hungry lips surround her clit while he pushes two fingers into her and pumps in and out, in and out, a steady, relentless rhythm. Then one…two…three hard sucks later, and Nora combusts; detonates like a fucking bomb while a long string of Spanish curse words erupt from her pretty mouth.

 

“Mmm…dirty girl,” Connor purrs as he works her through each tremor of her orgasm until she’s pushing him away all together.

 

She’s a limp, wrecked mess by the time he’s done with her, and all she can do in response is babble: in English, in Spanish, but mostly in some ridiculous combination of both because she’s far too fucked to form coherent sentences in either language.

 

When her breathing finally levels out and her mind swims back to the surface, she opens her eyes (she doesn’t even remember closing them) and watches Connor through a satisfied haze.

 

A smug grin slides over his face as he sits back on his haunches and cleans his sticky fingers with his tongue.

 

“Your turn?” She nods down at his fully hardened dick.

 

“Sí,” he replies, and she’s fully prepared to trade places with him on the old couch they’ve been using, until she realizes that he has something else in mind.   

 

He pulls her down to where he is on the floor, then pivots till he’s lying underneath her. His face ends up in perfect alignment with her still-tingling sex while she positions her mouth in front of his bulging cockhead.

 

“¿Otra vez?” Her question is laced with amused excitement.

 

“Sí. Otra vez,” he confirms, then flicks his tongue across her slit just as she encloses her mouth around him.

 


End file.
